


Someday

by nightbirdrises



Category: Glee
Genre: Engagement, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine, engaged, live in the Bushwick loft with Rachel (Santana having moved in with a long-time girlfriend). Kurt starts to think about their wedding — how can they, being college students, pay for a wedding?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Angst! A thank you to [Joanna](ryderlynn.tumblr.com) and [Andrea](suitfer.tumblr.com) and [Megan](andersonhummels.tumblr.com) who each played some part in me deciding to do this. This was written [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/post/62039349511) before 5x01 aired, but I think it's still fairly canon-compliant, which was the idea. Because I want this to happen. Oops.

It’s a recently-married coworker named Bryce that gets him thinking about it.

"It was amazing," he tells Kurt with unbridled joy. He sobers by a few degrees a moment later. "We’re kind of broke now, though. It’ll take a while to pay everything off in full, you know?"

Kurt nods and only half-listens to Bryce for the rest of their break time. They haven’t planned their wedding yet — what with Blaine needing to graduate first and, later, both of them wanting to live together for some time before making any concrete decisions, it had seemed unnecessary to even pick a date. It’s not Kurt’s first instinct, of course, to simply not plan his own wedding as soon as possible, but he agrees that it’s more sensible to wait.

Except now he’s worried, and it’s all because weddings are  _expensive_.

When Kurt returns home in the afternoon, he finds Blaine fast asleep on the couch with a music theory textbook on the floor nearby, which has to be a miracle because Rachel is practicing her scales loudly in her room. Kurt ignores Rachel’s voice and stops in the living room to brush his lips against Blaine’s forehead; Blaine mumbles something unintelligible, and Kurt has to make a real effort not to laugh just in case it wakes him up.

He continues into his room —  _their_  room, actually — and drops off his bag and jacket. Kurt has to search, but he soon finds his laptop and brings it back out to the living room. Settling in the car seat-made-armchair (“borrowed” from his dad’s garage), Kurt opens up his browser and starts to do some research.

"You’re home," Blaine hums, and Kurt looks up. Blaine’s eyes are still closed, but he’s clearly waking up. "Good day?"

"As good as ever," Kurt answers, distracted. Blaine blinks his eyes open and watches him with a slight frown.

"What are you doing?"

Kurt bites his lip. “I’m just trying to get an estimate of the cost of our wedding,” he says slowly.

"Did you pick a date without me?" Kurt smiles, shaking his head.

"Of course not, this is just… preliminary, I guess."

"Oh. Well, what have you got so far?" Blaine sits up, stretching. Kurt’s eyes are drawn to the strip of skin that shows when Blaine raises his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up a little.

"Uh." Kurt shakes himself mentally, attention returning to his laptop. "It doesn’t look good. I don’t know how we’ll be able to pay for this when the time comes. Unless…"

Blaine tilts his head, waiting. When Kurt doesn’t continue, he repeats, “Unless…”

"I don’t work as often as I could," Kurt says, almost as though he’s talking to himself and not to Blaine. "Maybe I could take on some more hours. It can only help, right?"

He asks the question while looking directly at Blaine, searching for apprehension or support. To his surprise, he finds a little of each.

"Right," Blaine agrees, but he’s holding himself unnaturally still. Kurt barely notices that Rachel isn’t singing anymore, but that’s not what he cares about right now.

"You’re holding something back," Kurt says, because they have to communicate. They  _have_ to, or else risk the worst again. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

"It’s just that we hardly have any time together, alone, as it is. And you work plenty, you have classes too…"

"But it might not be enough." Kurt sighs and closes his laptop. "Won’t it be worth it to be prepared?"

Blaine stares at the coffee table in front of him. Long seconds pass, dripping slow and smooth like honey. “It  _is_  our wedding,” he says. “It’s important.”

"So you’re okay with this?"

"Yes, on one condition."

"Hm?"

"You kiss me every night when you get home, even if you’re too tired to stand." Blaine is sheepish but his gaze remains steady when he looks for Kurt’s reaction.

Kurt grins and sets the laptop aside so he can get up and kiss Blaine, firm and sweet. “Of course,” he says gently, Blaine’s smile at his cheek. “Kissing you isn’t so bad.”

Blaine huffs. “‘Isn’t so bad?’ That makes it sound like a chore.”

"Hey, if I got an allowance just for kissing you, we’d have the wedding paid off in about a week, tops."

“ _Kurt_.”

"Mm, love you."

"Love you, too. Jerk."

Kurt laughs and kisses Blaine again; it’s deeper this time, but before anything can happen, Rachel bursts into the room with the start of a long rant about the casting process on her lips. Kurt isn’t too bothered — they’re both used to interruptions by now, and it’s just a matter of finding the time to finish what they’ve started.

That time comes later, when they should be sleeping. But it’s amazing as usual and Kurt drifts off afterwards with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

Four days later, a Friday, finds Kurt at work and rushing through the pile of articles on his desk. It’s nearly five-thirty and he’s supposed to be home by six for Friday Night Dinner, a tradition that has extended to the New Directions circle within New York City: Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Santana, Sam, and Artie. They’re all at the loft by now except for Kurt, who gives up on looking at the clock after a while because it’s stressing him out.

His phone vibrates and he glances at it, sees a message from Blaine that asks, “Is everything okay?”

"Just peachy," Kurt mutters to himself. He guesses he’ll be out of Vogue in ten minutes and sends a response to Blaine that says so.

Ten minutes becomes fifteen, then twenty; soon it’s six-fifteen and Kurt is finally leaving the Vogue offices.

He hadn’t expected that taking on more hours at Vogue would be so difficult, but at least he’s making quite a bit more now than he had been before. That thought motivates him even when the pile of work on his desk is as high as his coffee mug that mostly serves only as decoration.

(It was given to him by Blaine — it’s white and has “K + B” written in red Sharpie within a heart. Kurt hasn’t yet mentioned how it gives him a warm sense of déjà vu.)

  
**To: Blaine**  
6:17 PM  
I’m on my way home. If tonight’s plan is takeout, I’ll have whatever you’re having.

  
Kurt waits impatiently for both the subway and Blaine’s response. As expected, Blaine’s message isn’t too long in coming.

  
**From: Blaine**  
6:20 PM  
the plan was to go out, but we’re getting takeout now. I’ve got you covered.

  
Frowning, Kurt stares at the message. If the plan had been to go out somewhere, then why aren’t they going anywhere? He loves those Friday nights most of all, when they all pick a restaurant they’ve never tried and eat there. It’s not always a success — Sam has, unluckily, gotten food poisoning twice now as a result — but it’s always so much fun.

Takeout and a movie won’t be a problem, he likes that too. But still.

Kurt makes it home just after six-thirty. He expects to slide the door open and be hit with the usual cacophony of his friends all speaking at once, but instead it’s quiet. Sam and Artie are in the living room, talking quickly in low voices; Rachel is arranging the takeout on the kitchen table; Santana notices Kurt first and glares, an obvious reprimand that he doesn’t quite understand.

Blaine is nowhere to be seen.

"What’s going on?" Kurt mutters when he gets to the kitchen. He’s watching Santana out of the corner of his eye. Rachel glances up and opens her mouth — oddly, nothing comes out. She clears her throat and tries again.

"Nothing," she says in a too-cheery voice. "I guess it’s just one of those days. How was work?"

"Hell," Kurt answers truthfully, because yes, he loves his job and knows how lucky he is — especially since he’d been given a minor promotion from paid intern to actual employee some months ago — but sometimes it really drags heavy on him. "I had so much boring paperwork today, Rach, I don’t even know where it all comes from. It’s a fashion magazine, not the corporate office of some obscure invention."

"You couldn’t have saved some of it for the next time you work?"

"For tomorrow? I won’t have time tomorrow, it’s all meetings and listening to Isabelle work her genius."

"You’re still working tomorrow?" Blaine asks; Kurt spins around to see his fiancé pulling back the curtain that blocks off their room from the rest of the loft. He steps out, crosses his arms, and smiles, but it’s forced.

"Well, yes. I’ve always worked on Saturdays."

"Yeah, but…" Blaine shakes his head. "It’s nothing, I just thought you’d have taken Saturday off to make up for taking more hours during the week."

 _Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?_  Kurt wonders, but he doesn’t say anything. Blaine seems distant and he doesn’t want to unintentionally make whatever this is worse, not while their friends are still here.

"I’m sorry I’m late, by the way, I just—"

"Work," Blaine finishes for him, hollow. "I know."

Kurt’s eyes narrow — if Blaine’s acting like this because… but no, he won’t dwell on it tonight. Tonight is for friends and food and a movie, provided they actually agree on one.

Rachel shoos Kurt out of the kitchen and into the living room, insisting that she’ll bring their food out to each of them if they’ll talk about which movie to watch. Sam starts the conversation before it dissolves into awkward silence, once again requesting The Avengers.

"We’ve watched that twice," Blaine points out as he sits on the opposite end of the couch as his best friend. "As much as I love it, we should pick something that isn’t an action movie."

"A chick flick?" Artie cuts in, grimacing. "No offense, but I’m pretty sure guys outnumber girls right now."

"Oh, no you don’t," Santana says. "First of all, you’re worth about half a guy. Second of all, Kurt and Blaine are on our team."

"I didn’t know we were basing this on sexual preference," Kurt adds, staring at Santana. He sits primly next to Blaine, hesitant to be as close as he usually is. But their knees knock together and Blaine doesn’t do anything, so he figures it’s okay.

"Of course not. If we were, I’d have to be counted with Lips and Wheels."

Blaine shrugs. “It would be even that way. Three and three.”

"Whatever. The point is, we’re not picking another action movie just because there are more sausages than tacos in here."

"Oh, God." Kurt forgets for a moment and leans into Blaine, exasperated. Blaine laughs, though, and the tension between them dissipates somewhat. "Someone pick a movie or we’ll be here all night long."

"You’re right, you guys, we’re cutting into precious boy-on-boy alone time," Santana says with mock seriousness. "If we force them to socialize for too long, they’ll just start going at it right here."

“ _No_ ,” Sam says forcefully. “I don’t need the mental image of my best friend and his boyfr— fiancé doing… that.”

"Disney!" Everyone turns to stare at Blaine, who grins. "We can watch a Disney movie. How about Up?"

No one has any objections, so Artie rolls to the shelf filled to the top with DVDs. Up happens to be within his reach, so he grabs it and puts it into the DVD player just as Rachel finishes handing out their dinner.

"I hate the beginning of this movie," Kurt grumbles when it starts, picking at his food. "They should have gone on that adventure together."

"You know why it’s okay they didn’t, though," Blaine says softly. Kurt can’t help but melt a little. Blaine is definitely  _his_  adventure.

"That doesn’t make it any less heartbreaking."

And heartbreaking it is. Kurt squeezes in closer to Blaine, as close as he can get without spilling all over him, and can’t stop a single tear from rolling down his cheek. Blaine notices, because he always notices these things, and presses his lips to Kurt’s hair since it’s all he can reach without jostling them both.

"Damn you, Pixar," Kurt sighs heavily as Blaine chuckles.

They don’t say much throughout the rest of the movie. When Kurt finishes eating, he curls up against Blaine, his head on Blaine’s shoulder and his arms wrapped around him. Whatever had been between them earlier is gone, lost to a sweet movie and the sweeter warmth of being so close.

Sam predictably attempts impressions of each character — he nails the bird, Kevin, right on the head, and Kurt has to laugh just because it’s so ridiculous. Artie takes notes on the narrative, and Rachel gushes over Russell. Santana, who has a weird soft spot for these movies, simply watches with a curious half-smile.

All in all, Kurt’s happy with the way the night turns out.

After the movie ends, Artie, Sam, and Santana head back to their respective apartments. Rachel retreats to her room since she hasn’t slept much this week due to rehearsing for dance class. Kurt and Blaine remain in the living room, tangled in each other and in whispers, the soft hush of them settling easy upon Kurt’s ears.

"I really am sorry I was late," he says, absently tracing across Blaine’s belly with his finger. "It’s just— it’s important."

"I get it," Blaine insists. "I’ll admit it’s not my favorite compromise, but it’s your decision."

"It should be ours. I’m not marrying myself, after all, no matter how fabulous I am."

Kurt remembers his promise, then, and kisses his fiancé with enthusiasm that completely contrasts the previous calm.

"So we’re okay?" Blaine asks when they break for air.

"We’re fine," Kurt assures him. And he believes it — they’ve had little arguments and issues since Blaine moved in, but they’ve jumped back easily from each problem thus far. This will be no different, even if Blaine still has barely-there tension in his shoulders that only Kurt, who knows each part of him intimately, can detect.

He ignores it, ignores the apprehension that sticks unpleasant in his gut as he kisses Blaine again.

 

* * *

 

Kurt’s determined not to stay at Vogue too late today. All he has are meetings, which sometimes end early, so he’s hopeful. He knows that Blaine will be keeping himself busy with schoolwork and lunch with Rachel, but that doesn’t keep him from fidgeting as an array of people he barely knows except by name talks Vogue.

Isabelle notices his strange mood and pulls him aside around noon.

"You’re not sick, are you?"

"No—"

"Did you and Blaine break up again?"

"What? No, of course not." Isabelle raises an eyebrow. "I would be way worse off if we broke up, trust me. It’s just… I don’t think he’s a very big fan of my extra hours this week."

“Are you reconsidering?”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “We need this. I don’t want to drown in even more debt after the wedding.”

“Do you know when it’s happening?” Kurt shakes his head.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it would be in couple of years. But no, we don’t have a set date.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“I’ll always take advice from my fairy godmother,” Kurt teases with a smile. Isabelle laughs, clear and beautiful as always.

“Take next weekend off. Friday and Saturday. I love all the extra help, but I don’t want to deprive Blaine of quality time with his fiance.”

“But—”

Isabelle shushes him with a finger to his lips. Kurt blinks. “I’m asking you, as your boss, to take those two days off. And if you even think about coming in anyway, I will take away your coffee machine privileges for a week.”

The threat is akin to chopping off his leg. Kurt nods, eyes wide.

“Good. Come on, we only have one more meeting to suffer through.”

The meeting is surprisingly short and Isabelle sends Kurt off afterwards with a kiss on the cheek. He’s used to that now, is proud of the fact that he’s not so leery of physical contact anymore. Of course, it’s been years since he really worried about that. It’s impossible now to imagine that anyone will flinch away — not after he met and fell in love with Blaine, who leans in closer with every touch, as if needing  _more_  even from a casual brush as they walk side by side.

He glances at his desk and groans, noticing a pile of new work waiting for him. He could save it for Monday, he thinks, but he’ll have even more of it then. And if he puts off some of Monday’s work to Tuesday… it’s a vicious cycle. It’s not as though Kurt gets paid for the time he spends working at home, but he could at least prevent himself from wearing out only a week into this new arrangement.

He tucks the papers into his bag and tries not to think about anything except the blissful day off he’ll have tomorrow.

Rachel and Blaine aren’t home when he gets there, so Kurt lets out a relieved sigh and sits at the kitchen table, spreading his work out in front of him. If he can get everything done, he’ll have all night as well as all day tomorrow to make up for everything to Blaine.

Not that he should  _have_  to make anything up, because he’s not doing anything wrong.

Kurt stops himself there and refocuses on his work. Half an hour later, Blaine and Rachel reappear with bright grins, laughing about something. Blaine doesn’t notice Kurt at the table until Rachel has gone to her room, though — and when he does, the smile slips right off. Kurt wants to dare him to say what he’s thinking, but he can’t.

“How are you?” Blaine asks quietly, the corner of his mouth turning up as though he hadn’t realized the change in his expression until now.

“Fine,” Kurt says, short and rude. He regrets it immediately. “Sorry. Meetings are kind of rough sometimes.” Well, it’s true; some of the speakers are assholes. Blaine rocks back on his heels, unsure and avoiding eye contact. “How was your day with Rachel?”

“Great, actually,” Blaine says, and he brightens up a bit. Kurt smiles; he can’t not smile when Blaine is happy about something. “We got lunch at that little corner bistro you pointed out last week and then we took a walk through Central Park.”

“I can’t believe you went to that bistro without me,” Kurt says, intentionally dramatic. Blaine huffs out an amused laugh.

“Honestly, it wasn’t that special. We can get better food much closer to home. The only really exciting part was when an old lady asked us when our wedding would be.”

“To be fair, you both do act married sometimes.”

“We do not!”

“You both sing in the shower even if it’s midnight, you both take any opportunity to perform, you both—”

“Rachel and I don’t act married,” Blaine huffs, pouting. “If anything, she’s like a sister.”

“I know, honey,” Kurt says, reaching out to pat his arm. “Just accept that you two have that kind of chemistry that could be mistaken for romantic.”

“If that’s the case, what kind of chemistry do we have?”

“The kind that actually  _is_  romantic, unless you’ve neglected to tell me something very important over the past few years.”

“Romance, passion—” Kurt squeaks as Blaine pulls him out of his chair and twirls him. “—lust and love. Does that sound right?” Blaine adds, holding Kurt close as if they’re about to dance together. Kurt rolls his eyes.

“We’re also ‘bros,’ if I remember correctly.” He breaks free of Blaine’s grip, ignoring his offended whine. He gives Blaine an apologetic peck on the lips, then kisses deeper. “Let me finish working? We can make something for dinner when I’m done.”

Blaine stares at the papers that have taken over the table and nods. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Kurt wakes up early on Sunday morning, groaning when he realizes what time it is. He doesn’t like getting up early on Sundays — it’s the one day of the week he’s able to sleep in — but apparently the universe has decided that he’s not sleeping any more today. Next to him, Blaine rolls over so he’s facing Kurt, still asleep as he hums so quietly it might never have happened at all.

He’s debating what to do next when Blaine yawns, blinking awake. “Y’re up,” he mumbles, shuffling in closer so his nose brushes Kurt’s cheek. Then he leans back, frowning. “You’re not going to work, are you?”

“No,” Kurt says. “Why would I?”

“Dunno,” Blaine says, his gaze getting clearer as he wakes up. “I’m glad you aren’t, though.”

Kurt smiles then, he has to, and he pulls Blaine back in to kiss him, lazy and slow. This feels like them, he thinks. There’s still that weird, uncomfortable  _thing_  that’s hanging over them, that Kurt could probably decipher in its entirety if he let himself, but it seems irrelevant at the moment. He can lose himself in Blaine and this beautiful March morning, the sun streaming in from the one window in their sectioned-off space.

“Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“When we, um.” Blaine chuckles, nervous, and Kurt doesn’t miss the way he reaches to rub at the back of his neck. “When we both have full-time jobs, will you still love me?”

Kurt props himself up on one elbow to better look at Blaine, who seems like he wants to take back what he’s just said. “Why on earth wouldn’t I still love you?” he wonders out loud, because Blaine must know that he hasn’t stopped loving him since he started in his junior year of high school.

Blaine closes his eyes, shrugging. “I’m sorry, this is too much for a Sunday morning.”

“Blaine—”

“It was a stupid question,” he continues. “I know you love me as much as I love you, which is still so crazy to me, but…”

“The fact you love me at all is crazy in itself,” Kurt says as Blaine scoffs at him. He’s still confused, though.

Well, not quite. He knows, somehow, what’s bothering Blaine. Hell, Blaine just pretty much told him exactly what the problem is. Why Kurt’s not pushing for them to talk is beyond his grasp, however. Is it only that he doesn’t want that rift between them? Maybe it is. Since getting back together — getting  _engaged_  — life with Blaine has been nothing short of breathtaking. It feels like it could all come crashing down if he brings up this problem that will probably go away within a few weeks anyway.

They just need to adjust. Right?

Kurt refuses to think about the last time they’d tried to adjust to a new situation. They’re older and wiser now, in any case.

“You’re thinking a lot,” Blaine says, interrupting his thoughts. He brushes a thumb across Kurt’s cheekbone, smiling softly. “Care to share?”

Another opportunity, and Kurt casts it away. “We’re really getting married,” he says, staring at the ring on his hand where it rests at Blaine’s hip. Blaine’s smile widens into a full-on grin; he wiggles a little in excitement.

“God, we are. Just knowing that I can call you my husband someday—” Kurt cuts him off with a kiss, pulling Blaine flush against him at the same time. It’s not surprising that Blaine’s halfway there already, but a spark travels sharp down Kurt’s spine when they start to rock against each other, slow and fumbling.

“Screw this,” Kurt mutters, and he turns them so he’s on top, all heavy, sleep-leadened weight until he manages to lift himself up enough to watch Blaine as he grinds their hips together. Blaine groans, straining to be quiet because Rachel’s in her room and there’s next to no soundproofing in the loft. They’ve already had a few awkward post-sex encounters with her, and neither of them want that to happen again if they can help it. It’s like getting caught by a sister.

It’s easy and deliberate, slow in that pleasant way that only a Sunday morning can afford them, but when Blaine insists that they take their sweatpants off— It’s just all so  _much_ without layers between them, and Kurt finds himself close and whimpering in minutes. Blaine urges him up his body and Kurt grips the headboard, jaw dropping and hips twitching as Blaine swallows dutifully, lips swollen and red.

Kurt returns the favor, more out of a desire not to have to clean up than anything, and stretches himself leisurely along Blaine’s side.

“Good morning, sweet fiancé of mine,” he says cheerily, and Blaine laughs, shoving at his shoulder.

“Breakfast?”

Kurt nods. “It’s a blueberry pancake kind of day, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.” Blaine considers something for a moment, then adds, “I love this.”

“Love what?”

“When you’re here with me,” he explains. “Like this, when we’re not stressed about work and NYADA and whether or not we have time for a quickie between the time you get home from class and the time I have to leave for my class.”

Kurt snorts ungracefully; they’ve long since abandoned the attempts at orgasm in those increasingly small spaces of time, but that doesn’t keep either of them from being hopeful some days. Except now, well, there’s no space of time to hope for at all. Kurt goes straight from class to work or vice versa, has nearly mastered the ability to be prepared for everything during the last week — because Bushwick is so out of the way, there’s really no time to stop at home anymore.

“I love it too,” he says gently. He thinks about telling Blaine that he’ll be home all day on Friday and Saturday next weekend but, at the last moment, he decides it will make a perfect surprise for Thursday night. “Come on, I need your help with the pancakes.”

“Because I’m such an expert pancake-maker,” Blaine says, but he maneuvers himself off the bed.

“Because they would be even better with your famous bacon-and-egg biscuit sandwiches,” Kurt says. “I’m hungry just thinking about them.”

“Less thinking, more cooking.” Blaine holds a hand out and Kurt takes it, lets Blaine pull him to his feet and accepts the brief kiss Blaine gives him.

Less thinking he can work with. Kurt revels in the prospect of spending a day with Blaine and not thinking about anything in particular except how amazing their breakfast turns out to be and how perfect their arm-in-arm walk through Bryant Park later is.

 

* * *

 

 **To: Blaine**  
9:22 AM  
I didn’t want to wake you up, but I’ll be home by six. Love you xo

  
**To: Blaine**  
3:12 PM  
Okay, I’ll be home a bit past six. Sorry!

  
**To: Blaine**  
6:07 PM  
make it 15 to 7 or so

  
**From: Blaine**  
6:11 PM  
Fine.

  
Kurt slumps back against the sliding door when he gets home at seven-fifteen, utterly exhausted and worn down to his last nerve. Mondays are the worst.

He lets himself close his eyes and breathe for a minute or two and the smell of blown-out candles soothes him. That is, until he starts to wonder why there would be blown-out candles at all and opens his eyes again.

The kitchen table, normally cluttered, is covered in a white tablecloth with a subtle cream pattern. Set on top of the table are two placemats, two plates, two sets of silverware, two flutes of champagne that Kurt knows Artie had given to them despite all of them still being underage. He stares at the table settings, which face each other and a small arrangement of candles — blown out and smoking slightly, which explains the smell.

It would be romantic but instead it’s achingly empty without the candles lit. Something sinks low into Kurt’s stomach as he spots Blaine nearby, who hasn’t acknowledged Kurt as he’s putting Saran wrap-covered trays and what appears to be a small roast chicken in the fridge.

Kurt clears his throat, says, “I’m home,” and makes his way towards the kitchen. He barely registers the soft classical music in the background, doesn’t notice it at all until Blaine reaches for a tiny portable stereo on the counter and stops it.

“Hey,” Blaine says, still facing away from Kurt. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you want something to eat. I’m not hungry.”

Blaine turns on his heel and Kurt manages to catch his stony expression, but then Blaine starts for their room, and there’s no way Kurt’s letting him go that easily.

“Wait.”

Blaine stops. He doesn’t look at him. “Yeah?”

“What’s all this?”

Blaine laughs, but it’s too short and lacks the pleasant melody that Kurt knows. He does turn, then, and faces Kurt head-on.

“It was supposed to be a romantic dinner,” he says. “Just us. I convinced Rachel to stay the night at her friend’s dorm, so she’s not here and won’t be until tomorrow. I was going to surprise you.”

“I—”

“I thought we were okay after yesterday,” Blaine continues, eyes too-bright and jaw set. “I thought, you know, I could keep what we had going like this. But then the food was getting cold and you still weren’t here. Kurt, it’s almost seven-thirty!”

Kurt furrows his brows. “We agreed on this together, Blaine.”

“I didn’t agree to let you turn your job into your life,” Blaine says. “We’re still in college. We’re supposed to be tight on money but having fun in spite of it. For all I know, by next week you’ll be staying in the office until after dark, and then I have to worry about you getting home safely.”

“First of all,” Kurt starts, aware of his irritation levels rising as much as he wants to remain level-headed, “we are not just college students. We’re fiancés, and this plan is supposed to help us save money for the wedding we’ll have someday.”

“Someday,” Blaine repeats. “As in, eventually but not yet. We don’t even have a date, there’s no reason to do this. It could be years!”

“Blaine—”

“And another thing.” Blaine’s hands are moving now, as though he has no idea what to do with them. “You get stressed. Working this much isn’t healthy for anyone, but—”

“I can take care of myself, thank you,” Kurt says. In contrast to Blaine, he’s practically frozen, like a sudden move will finally collapse the leaking dam between them.

“I should be allowed to take care of you,” Blaine argues. “I should tell you that this scheme is ridiculous and unnecessary, and that it seems like you’re not Kurt when you work your ass off like this.”

"Oh?"

“You’re— You’re just different. You get home and it’s like I’m not important to you anymore. Not as important as Vogue, at least.”

“That’s right, I forgot that I’m not myself if I’m not attached to you by the hip,” Kurt shoots back. “Have you ever considered the fact that you might need me a little too much?”

It might have been comical in another situation, the way that Blaine’s eyes widen and his hands drop limply to his sides, but right now it pricks sharp like a needle into Kurt’s heart. He’s nothing if not a skilled actor, though, so Kurt keeps his expression neutral, chin tilted up.

Blaine doesn’t say anything for a while; he stares at Kurt in a way that reminds him painfully of exactly one other instance, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. Maybe he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally, and Kurt’s at least relieved that he didn’t walk away. But the feeling is short-lived. “Don’t you remember the last time you got this involved in work?”

“Don’t—”

“That  _really_  worked out, didn’t it?” Blaine stops suddenly and looks away. “Kurt—”

Kurt stands up straighter and drops his voice low. “I can’t believe…” He trails off, scoffing. His voice shakes. “I didn’t  _make_  you cheat by caring about my career. What, do you think you’ll run off to a gay bar and pick a guy up now that your dear fiancé is too busy to fuck you on a daily basis?”

“No, I—”

“Do you know what this means?” Kurt asks, pointing at his ring. “I don’t anymore. I thought it meant that we would have each other regardless of our mistakes. That what happened then won’t happen again because we were young and stupid. Well, guess what: we’re still young and stupid.”

Kurt, on an unexpected whim, twists the ring off his finger. He turns the silver band over in his palm, a burning sensation starting to threaten tears. Jaw set, Kurt throws the ring at Blaine, who flinches as it hits his chest and clatters to the floor.

“Kurt,” Blaine says again, the name broken but no less reverent in the way he says it. “Are you— Is this it?”

“No,” Kurt says. He’s not sure he can survive another breakup, but he is sure that there’s something that needs healing. “Just… I want you to stay with Sam and Artie for tonight.”

“Can’t we talk?”

“I honestly don’t think either of us can hold a real conversation right now,” Kurt says shortly. He slumps a little, unable to keep up the pristine posture that’s part of his defense. “Please, Blaine.”

Blaine nods. Kurt can see the tears and they nearly spark his own. He’s surprised by how calm they both are in comparison to the last time — he wonders if that’s even a good thing. “Sam should have room for me, so I’ll just…” Blaine drops to his knee to pick the ring up. Almost a year ago, he’d been on one knee to give the ring to Kurt. Now, as Kurt watches, he’s on the same knee to take it back.

Kurt can feel himself crumbling from the inside out, so he walks past Blaine and towards their room. He stops as soon as he pulls the curtain shut behind him, a sob breaking through. The bed is still made from this morning — Blaine must have had some time to do that. Kurt changes into a t-shirt and his sweatpants, but he’s not about to try to sleep in their bed.

He brings a small stack of magazines out of the room, along with his phone, and slips into Rachel’s room without looking at Blaine. It’s garishly decorated as always, but at least it’s not a place that he shares with the man in the kitchen.

“Um, Kurt?” Blaine moves the curtain a few inches to look in at Kurt, who has settled on the bed with one of the magazines already. “I’m gonna go.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

Kurt closes his eyes against the tears. “I love you, too. Text me when you get there so I know you’re okay.”

“I will, I promise.” Blaine hovers on the spot like he wants to say something. Kurt really hopes he doesn’t. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Blaine.”

Blaine lets the curtain fall back into place, and all Kurt can hear are his footsteps and the creaking slide of the door as it opens and closes with a dull thud. He manages to hold himself together for a good three seconds more before his dam finally crashes and renders him useless in anything except ruining Rachel’s pillows.

He calms down enough after some time to check his phone. Kurt almost doesn’t want to check it in case there’s nothing there, but he has to know that Blaine’s okay.

  
**From: Blaine**  
8:38 PM  
I made it here safely. There’s tea in the kitchen, I know you might want it. Goodnight.

  
Kurt takes in a deep breath and smiles; it hurts a little, and it’s watery, but Blaine is okay.

  
**To: Blaine**  
8:41 PM  
Thank you.

  
He wanders back to the kitchen for some of that tea since it’s still fairly early and, as Blaine knows too well, it never fails to calm him enough to sleep later.

Blaine’s okay. Whether  _they_ are okay, though, is another question entirely.

 

* * *

 

Kurt doesn’t go into work on Tuesday. He doesn’t go to class, either. Instead he spends the day cleaning the loft. When Rachel comes back, she doesn’t try to talk to him — Blaine had probably filled her in at some point, but he doesn’t bother asking.

The cleaning isn’t a stress thing this time. It’s more of an activity to occupy his hands and body while he thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

He thinks about Blaine most of all, and the conversation. It’s like a dagger twisting in his gut, that Blaine would bring up the cheating incident and have the gall to blame  _him_  for it. Again. But at the same time, Kurt knows how distant he gets when he focuses too heavily on one thing; he also knows that Blaine loves deeply and craves the love he gets in return. He thrives off of attention — not in a Rachel way, but a softer, Blaine way — and as the person that should love him as much as Kurt does, he hasn’t done well to show it lately.

As ridiculous as it seems, he wishes he’d kissed Blaine last night. Like he’d promised.

Blaine comes home around three, after checking with Kurt via text message to make sure he’s welcome. Kurt bites his lip when they make eye contact, unsure of where they stand or what to do. He wants to apologize, but he needs Blaine to do the same.

Kurt wonders when, if ever, they’ll stop being young and stupid.

Blaine ends up starting the conversation as soon as Rachel awkwardly excuses herself and flees the loft.

“I need you to know that I’m so sorry,” he says. “I, um, I actually had a list of things to say but I lost it on the way home. I shouldn’t have said… I shouldn’t have said anything, really. All I did was bring up our old shit when I should have just… I don’t know. But I hurt you again. I don’t know what I can do to stop hurting you. I would do anything.”

“I know,” Kurt says, forcing himself to remain calm. “I’m sorry, too. No, listen,” he adds when Blaine looks like he’s about to interrupt. “You’re right. We’re in college, in our twenties; we’re supposed to be having the time of our lives, and I’m spending it at work. I should have been more aware of that and done something about it before it turned into this mess.

“In other words, we really need to perfect this communicating thing,” he finishes, shaking his head.

“We can make an agreement,” Blaine suggests carefully. “And write it down, like a contract.”

“Let’s do it now,” Kurt says, walking off to find paper. When he has it, they sit at the kitchen table and work.

  
_I, Kurt Hummel_  
_and I, Blaine Anderson_

  
_do hereby agree to make a conscious effort to voice any and all problems, uncertainties, and obstacles between us that, if left unsaid, could damage our relationship. We agree to listen to each other in full and to refrain from dredging up past mistakes. We agree to be honest and to have the courage to to talk through whatever problems we may encounter, even if they seem trivial._

  
“We can add to it if we need to,” Kurt says when they’re finished. “I’m sure there are some things we’re missing.”

“As long as we have something,” Blaine says. They stare at the paper in front of them for a moment. “We’re way too formal for our own good.”

Kurt laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Like,  _really_  formal. We just wrote a communication contract, Kurt. On actual paper.”

They dissolve into giggles, and it’s absolutely inappropriate given why they’re doing this in the first place, but Kurt can’t find it in himself to care. They calm down after a while, though, and Kurt clears his throat.

“I think you still have something of mine,” he says quietly. Blaine raises his eyebrows.

“Are you sure? I mean, we don’t have to even be engaged anymore if you don’t want to. We could just spend some time being boyfriends again since we didn’t really do that last time. Totally my fault, too.”

Kurt shrugs. “That does make sense, but there is a reason I said yes back then. And— Well, would it be too weird if I said I miss how the ring feels on my finger?”

Blaine grins, pulling the ring from his pocket. “Not weird at all. But I want you to be absolutely sure.”

“I’m sure,” Kurt says with complete certainty. They’re not any different with or without the ring, anyway. The ring is a promise, and an important one, but Kurt knows he’s going to marry Blaine regardless. He might as well have that tangible sign, the thing that draws the attention of his peers and coworkers and makes them ask, “Who’s the lucky one?”

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Blaine starts, getting down on his knee again even as Kurt rolls his eyes — because honestly. “Will you—”

“Oh my God, just put it on. Yes,” Kurt adds as an afterthought. “I will marry you, Blaine. Someday.”

“Someday,” Blaine parrots, but this time with a smile. He straightens up, suddenly sheepish. “There’s something else I should tell you.”

“What?”

“I called this café near Vogue, the one that’s hiring. I have an interview on Thursday morning.”

“You’re getting a job?”

“If they take me, yes.” Blaine beams. “I figure if we’re going to do this saving money thing, we should do it together.”

“Blaine, you know I’m dropping the extra hours—”

“All the more reason for me to get my own job,” Blaine says, tapping Kurt’s nose. “That’s… okay, right?”

Kurt can’t help it; he pulls Blaine into the kiss he didn’t get to give him last night, hard and sure and full of everything that’s impossible to say. They end up hugging, swaying in the kitchen. It still hurts, all that’s been said, but the warmth of being back in Blaine’s arms and knowing that they’re as okay as they can be right now — that’s enough.

 _I’m the lucky one_ , Kurt thinks.  _We both are. And we’ll figure this out together_.


End file.
